


The Art of Plant Care

by asofthaven



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Character Study, Coming of Age, M/M, Magical Realism, Slow Build, Sort Of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-03
Updated: 2019-04-03
Packaged: 2019-12-30 18:35:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,698
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18320939
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/asofthaven/pseuds/asofthaven
Summary: Tsukishima Kei can grow plants and trees, except for when he doesn't.





	The Art of Plant Care

**Author's Note:**

  * For [brella](https://archiveofourown.org/users/brella/gifts).



i.

Kei is eight when he’s instructed to grow his first tree, with his mom’s careful eyes at his back and Akiteru shouting advice and reminders from her side.

It’s an elm sapling, planted in the ground across from Akiteru’s first tree, also an elm. Kei sits in _seiza_ in front of the sapling, opposite the sunlight like his mother has always instructed. His heart thuds in his chest, drowning out every other noise. He’s only grown small things before this--pots of annual flowers, herbs, a tomato tree that grew too quickly and dropped tomatoes that were still green. 

Kei leans forward, hands firm against the turned dirt at the base of the sapling. In a moment, he feels the thin pulse of the roots. A thing can only take so much pressure before it causes strain and a snap, and Kei has long learned to keep his power in tight control. He doesn’t want more green tomatoes.

With an exhale, Kei pushes his hands against the dirt.

The sapling ages in a time lapse, sprouting branches and leaves that wither and grow and wither again, its trunk widening and arching over Kei’s head. The leaves are a rush of color, green to yellow to orange to brittle purple, bark aging and peeling as the leaves curl and fall onto Kei’s head and shoulders. He keeps his hands to the dirt, paying close attention to the energy the roots gives off as it cycles through the seasons. 

Kei pulls his hands away when he feels the elm go through its eighth cycle. It stops growing in summer greenness, towering over Kei and already nearly reaching the height of Akiteru’s tree. Kei’s glasses have slipped down his nose, and he pushes them back with the back of a muddied hand. Sweat drips down his forehead, but Akiteru squishes him into a hug before he can wipe it away.

“That was amazing, Kei!” Akiteru says, ruffling Kei’s hair. “Your tree is way better than mine.”

“I like your tree, nii-chan,” Kei says into Akiteru’s shoulder, feeling simultaneously embarrassed and pleased. He’s feeling lightheaded from the use, and he flops to the ground the moment Akiteru lets go of him. The grass and trees are a gentle pulse underneath him.

His mom’s smiling face appears above him, and this time Kei can’t help his grin.

“I think,” she says, wiping the sweat from Kei’s forehead, “we should move you to trees from now on, huh?”

 

ii.  
Yamaguchi is the first friend Kei shows his power to because Yamaguchi is the first friend he has. They’re walking back from practice, and Yamaguchi is lamenting that the leaves are already falling. Kei stops, puts a palm to the maple along the road, and turns it back to height-of-autumn crimson.

Yamaguchi stops walking, his eyes growing wider and wider until Kei has to hide a laugh into the folds of his sweatshirt.

“ _Cool_ ,” he says, then again, “That was so cool, Tsukki! Can you do it again? What about--wait, try those! Can you do those?”

Yamaguchi has one hand in the fabric of Kei’s sweatshirt and the other gesturing in the general direction of a row of bushes that have already lost their flowers to the coming cold.

“Uh-huh,” Kei answers. Yamaguchi isn’t looking at him, so Kei doesn’t hide this smile in his sweatshirt. “Easy.”

He's not strong enough to make the whole row of them bloom, but Kei thinks one day he might be. And then he'd bring Yamaguchi back, to see the delight spread across his face as the whole stretch of road brightens with the star-shaped flowers.

He follows his mom’s teaching to the letter, practices with the flowers in their garden and the bushes peeking between a neighbor’s fence. Carefully, studiously, Kei commits the information he learns into a thin notebook, his writing neat and his sketches clean. 

And when he finds one he thinks Yamaguchi would like, he pulls the other boy through side streets and parks, cuts across yards and into forests just to show him. It gets to the point that Yamaguchi will sometimes help Kei tend to the garden, watering and pruning and adjusting as directed.

On a Sunday afternoon, Kei rests his chin on the table, watching his mom. She does trees, too; she has a juniper bonsai that has dedicated spot in the garden on a low, stone table. From here, Kei can see it, framed by the window and dappled in sunlight.

“Are there flowering bonsai?” Kei asks.

“Of course,” his mom answers. She looks back at him as she drops carrots into the pot on the stove. “Why?”

Kei digs his chin into the table, feeling his cheeks redden. “No reason,” he says quickly.

His mom’s gaze lingers on him a moment longer before turning back to the stove. Kei has a feeling she might be laughing.

Before he can ask, the doorbell rings. Kei is out of his seat and at the door a moment later. Yamaguchi, shifting his weight awkwardly from one foot to the other like it’s his first time here, grins when Kei opens the door.

 

iii.  
Kei’s elm surpasses Akiteru’s in height about the same time Kei stops talking to his brother. Well, it’s not like he stops talking to Akiteru completely; if Kei were a tree, he thinks right now would be winter.

The front door opens, and Kei hears his mom greeting Yamaguchi. He's chatting as he enters the living room; he’s become more talkative over the years, filling Kei’s silences with Yamaguchi’s voice. 

Kei leans toward the sound, tipping his head back and grunting a greeting when Yamaguchi finally appears in his line of sight. Yamaguchi’s chatter slows to a stop when he puts his bag down next to the couch, giving Kei a funny look. He’s dressed like he expects to be in the garden, whereas Kei is definitely not.

“Tsukki?”

Kei doesn’t have an explanation for this, except that being in the garden and at his elm reminds him of Akiteru, which reminds him of roots snapping, which reminds him of his hands.

“Did you check your tree already?”

“No,” Kei says flatly, turning his head to the side. 

“Oh. O-okay.” Yamaguchi lingers. In his periphery, Kei sees his weight shifting from leg to leg in a now-familiar indicator of nerves. “Um, then, can I check on it instead?”

Kei sinks into his couch cushions, frowning at the space in front of him. He doesn’t know what about the question irritates him, so he scowls at his hands instead of looking at Yamaguchi. “Do what you want.”

There’s quiet for a moment. Then a shuffle, quiet footsteps, and the sound of the back door sliding open.

Kei thinks sullenly of the notes in his book. The effort, the details, the delicacy; what does it come down to, really, except for light and water and air? Just that, and any plant would do fine.

Kei cranes himself up, peeking back through the window outside. He can’t see Yamaguchi, but the tops of Akiteru’s and Kei’s trees sway in the wind.

Light and water and air, Kei thinks again. Yamaguchi doesn’t really need to bother with anything else.

But still, he comes back, again and again, with dirt smeared on his palms.

iv.

“Yamaguchi said you can make trees grow,” Hinata says, folded forward into a stretch between sets. He blinks owlishly at Kei. “And flowers and bushes and stuff.”

Kei clicks his teeth. It’s not a secret, but he can’t help but be annoyed that Yamaguchi would say something about it anyways.

“Too bad it doesn't work on people,” he says with a smirk.

It’s enough to distract Hinata from the topic, but not enough to distract Kei, who is still thinking about it on the walk back with Yamaguchi.

Kei thinks his relationship with Yamaguchi is a lot like the moment he grew the elm. One day, he and Yamaguchi were nine years old, shoulder to shoulder at a volleyball meeting, and the next Yamaguchi was fifteen, shouting into Kei’s face about pride.

Kei kind of wishes it was like that. Like he could fast-forward through the years, stop right before the strain. If it were plants, he could have noticed it. If he were paying attention, he would have noticed it.

“Why did you tell Hinata about my power?” Kei asks. He’s feeling irritated, and his words are sharp in a way he reserves for other people.

Except Yamaguchi doesn’t recoil. Yamaguchi stares at him, an unnerving stillness in his eyes. If he surprised by the suddenness of the question, it doesn’t show on his face.

“Because you won’t,” Yamaguchi answers, his voice shaking a little. Kei thinks people misunderstand Yamaguchi’s stubbornness: no matter how much he trembles, he always stays standing.

“I don’t want to,” Kei says. “That’s never what I wanted to do with this power.”

“Then what _do_ you want, Tsukki?” Yamaguchi demands, and Kei doesn’t think that’s at all the question he means to ask but it’s the one that hangs in the air between them.

“I don’t want anything,” Kei answers, except that’s not right, either. There’s only ever been one thing that makes his power useful.

The cherry blossom trees along the road explode into color a season to early, abruptly distracting the both of them from whatever argument they’re on the verge of having. They bloom and grow, larger and taller and brighter, until Kei realizes that his emotions are still pouring out of him and sparking the trees to grow wild towards the sun.

“Shit,” Kei says in a rare moment of further lost control. He wipes pale pink petals from his hair, and instinctively looks to Yamaguchi to gauge his reaction.

Yamaguchi is starry-eyed, petals caught in his dark hair. All at once, Kei is nine years old and watching the wonder cross Yamaguchi’s face for the first time.

Kei sighs, long-suffering. He keeps his gaze level with Yamaguchi when he says, “I don’t care if no one but you sees it.”

Under the canopy of cherry blossoms, Yamaguchi blinks. His slow smile is the best Kei’s ever seen.

**Author's Note:**

> thank you for reading!
> 
> @brella, I hope you enjoyed! somehow i got assigned to you as a pinch hitter even though one wasn't needed, so I hope the additional gift was a pleasant surprise :>


End file.
